


To Love and Be Loved (To Be Yours)

by veroreos



Series: Spitfire Omega [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Boba shoots some guys onscreen but it's not graphic, Breaking Up & Making Up, Conflict Resolution, Emotional Sex, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Healthy Relationships, I threw in some smut for you delightful freaks but this is an emotion-centric work, I'm not gonna lie this is MOSTLY angst and fluff, Injury Recovery, Kidnapping, No specified genitalia for the reader, None of the abuse is perpetuated by Boba, Physical Abuse, Soft Boba Fett, The physical abuse isn't detailed but the injuries are alluded to, They don't technically break up but it gets real close for a hot sec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 17:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30142956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veroreos/pseuds/veroreos
Summary: Being the lover of Boba Fett comes with a lot of perks, but there are some drawbacks you weren't quite ready for.After you're put through a traumatic experience, you and Boba have a disagreement about how to move forward that jeopardizes your relationship.(This is a sequel to Setting the Bar, but can be read on its own.)
Relationships: Boba Fett/Reader
Series: Spitfire Omega [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2218533
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	To Love and Be Loved (To Be Yours)

**Author's Note:**

> This, uh, wasn't supposed to be so emotionally intensive when I first started writing it, but it got away from me and now here we are. I promise all of the angst resolves and it's a happy ending. Please heed the tags and enjoy!
> 
> No I still don't know how the Star Wars universe works and no I'm still not asking

To your credit, it wasn’t your fault.

Business had been booming for the past several months under Boba’s control, and while that meant you all had fat and happy paychecks, it also meant everyone was busier than ever. You couldn’t take the time to thoroughly review each and every crewmate that came aboard your ship when you cycled through crews every week or so. It simply wasn’t feasible. You were preoccupied with flying the fucking ship, you couldn’t be damned to know who was handling the cargo every time.

So when one of the crews ended up kidnapping you and holding you hostage for ransom money, it wasn’t really your fault.

You didn’t spend much time thinking about whose fault it was—most of your energy was devoted to making your captors’ lives miserable. Constant struggling and sabotage attempts had been successful in irritating the shit out of them, even if they hadn’t necessarily _worked_ , but when one of the brutes made a remark about ‘ways of wearing you out,’ you may have gotten carried away and bitten one of his fingers off.

That’s where they drew the line.

After the beating they gave you, you didn’t have much energy left. _That’s_ when you started wondering whose fault this was and who Boba was going to hold accountable.

“Are you out of your _minds_? What did I tell you about not damaging the omega!” The Quarren that arrived long after you’d already suffered through the abuse appeared to be the leader, based on the way she was chewing everyone out.

Kreedis, the Devaronian you had unfortunately become acquainted with, held up the stump where his index finger had once been. “Look what that whore did to my hand!”

_Note to self: bite off another finger at next available opportunity._

Their boss had absolutely no sympathy and slapped Kreedis on the back of the head. “I _told_ you not to provoke them! Do you morons understand what’s at stake here? Fett’s already on edge, and we need him to cooperate until we can get out with the payment. If he sees what you did—”

“I told’m,” you slurred, your head limply hanging forward, blood dripping from your nose. They’d had the decency to tie you back to the chair after your beating, which you weren’t exactly grateful for, but could at least work with. “Said, ‘Boba’s g’nna be sooooo fuckin’ mad,’ then Kreedis broke one’ve my ribs…”

“You stupid little slut,” Kreedis hissed, grabbing you by the hair and wrenching your head upright. You only grunted in response. “If you’d played nice from the beginning, this could all be over and nobody would’ve gotten hurt. Just don’t know how to keep your mouth shut, do you?”

The Quarren didn’t move to stop him, but she certainly didn’t look pleased about this development, either. “Now, now. Before you manage to somehow make this worse—”

“How do we know Fett’s even gonna pay up?” This time you squealed in pain as Kreedis cruelly yanked your hair back as far as he could, baring your unmarked throat to the room. “He hasn’t even mated ‘em.” That stung more than it had any right to, so you closed your eyes and grit your teeth, hoping that your anger would cover up any real feelings the words brought.

“This is exactly why _I_ was in charge of the planning, because _I_ actually do my research and understand who we’re dealing with. Now let go, Kreedis, and hope Fett doesn’t find out you put a hand on his favorite plaything.”

Kreedis clicked his tongue before leaning in to speak into your ear, his voice a low hiss that made your skin crawl. “You better be glad that Fett’s stupid enough to care so much about a cocksleeve. The moment he realizes you’re replaceable, I doubt he’s going to keep putting up with that mouth of yours. Unless your _mouth_ is the reason he keeps you around to begin with.”

You wanted to say something snappy back, you really did, but after several hours of physical and verbal abuse at the hands of your captors, your miles and miles of emotional resilience finally gave out.

Instead, you wept.

Kreedis laughed and let go as the boss softly _tsk_ ’d. “ _And_ you made the omega cry? We might as well hand you over to Fett as a gesture of goodwill. I bet he’d love getting to flay your sorry ass.”

“Oh, please. Fett’s old, he’s not nearly the killer he used to be.”

“Haven’t you heard? Back when Fett was courting this omega, he caught an alpha trying to take advantage of them in heat. People say he tortured the alpha for days before finally beating him to death in the throne room. Bare hands and everything.”

“That’s just a rumor…”

Their voices trailed off as they left the room, leaving you alone with your broken sobs.

You’d passed out at some point while sitting there. As far as you could tell, you didn’t have many open wounds, so it probably wasn’t blood loss. Possibly an adrenaline crash after the shock wore off and the pain grew too severe? There was no way to tell how long you were out for, no windows to indicate what time of day it was and keeping you isolated in total darkness. Being awake and being asleep were indistinguishable, the only difference being how acutely you could feel your injuries.

All you remembered with clarity was waking up to the sound of Boba’s voice as his firm hands untied you.

“ _Cyar’ika_ , love, can you hear me?” It was soft, but you managed to hum in acknowledgment and you could feel Boba’s immediate relief, the slightest bit of give in the tension. “Everything’s going to be fine. I’ve got you now.” You meant to thank him, but all that came out was a garble of noise before you tried to clear your throat and ended up with blood in your mouth, staining your lips as you coughed it up. You didn’t have to see or hear Boba to _feel_ the heat of his fury, rolling off him like a thick fog and permeating the air with tangible unease. He was careful to make sure none of it was directed at you—his voice stayed soft, his touch, gentle. “You’ve done so well, little one. Stay with me for just a bit longer and then you can rest.”

Boba carried you out, cradled in his arms like you something fragile and precious. _Was that how he saw you all the time?_ Trying to string together thoughts was difficult, between the sharp spikes of pain, emotional turmoil, and the overwhelming scent of your angry and protective alpha. You wanted to soothe him, but didn’t know how you possibly could when your condition was the source of his rage. All you could think to do was slump your head against his chest to get his attention and mumble, “Devaronian and...Quarren…”

Boba’s helmet tilted down to look at you before barking orders to his people to make sure those two were captured alive. Then he shifted you up to get a more firm hold on your trembling form. “Thank you, _cyar’ika_. Don’t worry about them anymore. I’m going to take care of it all.”

You still had things you wanted to say, but your body couldn’t stay awake. You murmured something incomprehensible about your ship, and when Boba gently shushed you again, you went out like a light.

When you next woke up, you felt significantly better. Most of your body still ached, but the sharp pains had largely dissipated. You’d been bathed, clothed, bandaged, and tucked into a mountain of blankets and pillows in what you recognized to be Boba’s room. The kingpin himself wasn’t there, but you’d been with him for long enough that this was essentially a shared room between the two of you. On the nightstand were some fresh fruits, water, and your holopad, all of which you eagerly helped yourself to.

Boba showed up not long after you woke. You weren’t sure if you were being monitored or if he could just _feel_ these kinds of things using his experience as a bounty hunter like a sixth sense. Or his Mandalorian murder powers, which he hadn’t quite convinced you don’t exist. Boba already had his helmet in his hands when the door opened, and the moment he saw your face, he lit up in that subtle way of his where his eyes shine and his smile makes the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Good morning,” you said through a mouthful of fruit, something red and sticky and sweet from a planet you’d stopped on some months ago. Boba realized you love the fruit faster than you’d even figured out its name, and it soon became a regular in the various treats Boba liked to spoil you with.

“It’s nearly evening,” he replied with subdued mirth, closing the door behind him and taking a seat in an armchair that had been pulled up to the side of the bed. He’d likely spent a lot of time in that chair waiting for you to wake, based on the pillow and blankets piled by it, and you couldn’t help the guilt sitting in the pit of your stomach. “How are you feeling?”

“Never better. I’ll be up and flying by morning.” Boba actually tensed at that, surprising you. “Bo,” which you only called him when you needed to lighten the mood because you knew it annoyed him, “I’m kidding. I know I need to take it easy, and I’m planning to lounge in the lap of luxury for as long as my body needs.” Because being pampered at your lover’s palace was _such_ a burden.

He was still tenser than you expected, but he made a visible effort to try and relax. “Of course.” With a strangely solemn look in his eyes, he took your hand in his, tracing soft circles over your skin with his thumb. “I’ve been worried about you. Not only about your injuries, but about your mind, _cyar’ika_. What you went through…" Boba's voice trailed off, and you could sense the frustration and guilt rising like bile in his throat.

You squeezed his hand and tried to assuage his fears with a warm smile. “I’m going to be fine. These things happen, yeah? It comes with the line of work.”

Boba frowned and shook his head. “They came after you because of me, not because of business.”

“Alright, then it comes with the territory.” He didn’t seem very convinced, so you leveled him a serious look. “I mean it, Boba. I knew that being yours would come with risks, and I accepted that when I chose to be with you.”

“That doesn’t mean you should try to brush off what happened.” Boba lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to it, then leaned down to rest his forehead against your knuckles. “It’s alright if you’re scared. _I’m_ scared. I think about what could have happened, and it frightens me.”

You’d never heard this kind of admission from the firm and generally unflappable man. You took your free hand and turned to face him better, cupping his cheek. “Those things didn’t happen. I’m here with you, right now, and I’m alright.”

Boba closed his eyes and savored your touch. He was still quiet, so you took his hand and placed it over your heart, closing your eyes as well and listening to the steady beat.

“See?” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“No.”

You blinked in disbelief from the foot of the dais, staring up at Boba where he sat in his throne. It was strange to see him in his armor with the palace mostly empty, but you supposed this is how he likes to do business, and right now you technically counted as business. It took you a moment to find your voice. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, no.” Boba’s tone left no room for argument.

That didn’t stop you from trying. “The doctor you hired signed off on it, and my wounds are completely healed. What more do you want?”

“You’re not going back into the field.”

It finally clicked that he didn’t mean ‘not _yet_ ,’ but ‘not _ever_.’

As his words sank in, you clenched your jaw, trying to reign in your building frustration. “That isn’t for you to decide, Boba.”

“It’s too risky. You’ve got a massive target painted on your back now, it’s not wise for you to be constantly on runs with unfamiliar crews. It’s too easy for someone to—”

“Okay, then I’ll go on _less_ runs.” You didn’t miss the way one of Boba’s hands tightened into a fist, and you didn’t care, either. “I’m a pilot. This is my job, my life. You can’t permanently bench me because of one incident.”

“What happened wasn’t just an ‘incident,’ and piloting doesn’t have to be your job and life anymore.” Boba stood, taking slow and measured steps toward you. “ _Cyar’ika_. Let me provide for you. There’s no need for you to work when I can give you everything you want.”

You took a step back, gritting your teeth. “I don’t _want_ to be provided for! I appreciate being spoiled, Boba, but I’m not going to become _reliant_ on you!” Boba was growing tense, which only riled you up further. “This is _exactly_ the typical alpha bullshit I was trying to avoid, fucking _unbelievable_ —”

“Being with me puts you in danger, and that makes it _my_ responsibility to keep you safe!” His words swelled in volume, a crescendo until he was shouting and ending with a snarl as he began to lose his temper. “I’m not going to risk something happening again just because _you_ want to run around the galaxy and _play smuggler!_ Sorry, _sweetheart_ , but I’m taking care of you whether you like it or not. That comes with being my omega.”

“If being your omega means being trapped here and reduced to a glorified cocksleeve, then I don’t want to be your omega at all!”

The moment it came out of your mouth, you knew you shouldn’t have said it.

Boba went dead silent, his body as rigid as carbonite, helmet staring blankly at you and rendering him completely unreadable. Apologizing would have been the mature thing to do, but even if you shouldn’t have said it, you’d meant it, and you wouldn’t pretend you were sorry for that.

Instead, you took another step back, slow and hesitant. “I...need some time to be alone.” You suspected you both did. Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked out.

Boba let you.

When you went to the hangar, a mechanic who sometimes handled your ship—a Rhodian whose name you couldn’t quite remember, a terrible habit of yours—intercepted you. “Pardon! Sorry, sorry, one moment!”

He didn’t speak to you often. You were pretty sure you could count the number of times you’ve talked to him on one hand, actually. Curiosity piqued, you stopped, eyebrows raised. “Hey, need something?”

The guy looked surprisingly nervous, awkwardly fussing with a wrench in his hands. “Your ship is, uh, to remain docked, for the time being.”

After a pause, you narrowed your eyes. “Is there something wrong with it, or…?”

Just as you suspected, he grew even more nervous, averting his gaze to not look you in the face. “B-Boba said you weren’t fit to fly, a-and to stop you if you tried to leave.”

_Fucker._

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to not take out your frustrations on this poor guy. No point in shooting the messenger. “I just want to get some of my holovids and take them back to my room, alright? Won’t even turn any of the ship’s systems on.”

“Oh. O-Of course, I apologize.” The mechanic lowered the ramp to your ship and stepped out of your way, keeping his head down.

Before you moved, you looked at the Rhodian closely. “Are people talking about me and Boba?” He practically flinched in response, and you had your answer. Not even an hour had passed and the entire palace was already acutely aware that the two of you were fighting, no doubt thanks to Boba's attitude. (Definitely not _yours_ because _you_ were handling all of this _just_ **_fine_**.) You shook your head. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. Thanks for taking good care of my ship.”

You swiped the holovids in question, along with some of the toiletries you had in the refresher and clothing you had packed away in the tiny closet of your cabin. When you were walking off the ship, arms full of extra stuff you’d impulsively decided to take and struggled to balance while carrying, you noticed the Rhodian talking into his headset, looking even more distressed than he had a few minutes ago.

What little self-control you were holding onto disappeared instantly, as if it had been sucked into the vacuum of space. “Are you talking to Boba? Is that Boba on the line right now?”

The Rhodian froze, absolutely petrified at your voice. “Y…Yes, it is…”

You paid no attention to the things falling out of your arms as you stomped your way over, bending the mic of the headset outward so you could speak into it. “Real _fucking_ mature, Fett! Since you’re _so_ interested in keeping tabs on me, I’m going to my room now, assuming nobody’s barred the windows to make sure I can’t get out!”

Boba’s response was loud enough that the Rhodian flinched and you could faintly hear it from where you stood, but you couldn’t parse the words. The mechanic was left to uncomfortably explain that you’d already walked away, watching as you angrily snatched up the things you’d dropped off the ground as you left.

You felt bad about getting the poor guy involved, but your guilt was far outweighed by your rapidly mounting anger.

You spent that night in your room.

(There weren’t bars on the window, as far as you could tell.)

It had been months since the last time you’d slept here. Even when Boba was away on business, you still slept in his room, and nearly all of your things had been moved there already. When you went to wash up for the evening, you used the soap from your ship, not willing to risk running into Boba just to get your favorite shampoo from his refresher.

With time, the anger that had been simmering under your skin cooled, leaving you with uncertainty and regret weighing heavily on your shoulders. Should you have snapped at Boba? Sure, he was being unreasonable, but it was because he cares about you, even if this wasn't a fair way of showing it. Did you have any right to be upset when Boba has been taking such good care of you? Then again, you certainly didn’t _owe_ Boba anything since he’d given you all of these things as gifts of his own volition. It’d be underhanded to give a gift and then demand something in return, and that wasn’t Boba’s style. Was it on you to simply accept that you wouldn’t always get to do what you want, that you’d have to concede some freedoms to be with him?

Were you willing to give up those freedoms? Hadn’t that been part of the whole reason you didn’t want an alpha in the first place?

Thinking about it didn’t bring you answers and left you spiraling further into despair. Putting on holovids helped distract you, but only for a short while. Even the little potted cactus flowering on your windowsill acted as a bitter reminder of how much Boba had done for you, a rare glimpse at the tender heart beating underneath the scarred muscle and painted beskar.

Once, you’d told Boba that the cactus reminded you of him: a prickly exterior to ward off danger, yet capable of growing soft and delicate blossoms when it chose to. He’d laughed and said the cactus reminded him of _you_ for similar reasons. It’s resilient, not only withstanding harsh environments but _thriving_ in them, still finding the strength to bloom so beautifully regardless of hardship.

You briefly thought about throwing the pot from the window, if only for the catharsis of shattering something, but held off—more out of mercy for the cactus than anything else.

Dinner was brought to your room, a particularly extravagant meal of a roasted bird (that you couldn’t identify but made your mouth water with how savory it was) and fancily prepared vegetables imported from other planets that made you raise an eyebrow. The staff must have been trying to butter Boba up, or possibly urge both of you to calm down.

It was delicious either way, and you went to bed with a full stomach, even if your bed was empty and cold.

Boba held an audience the next day.

You’d heard from Fennec that he didn’t want to, though you could have pieced that together yourself from the way everyone was on edge.

Boba always had a wicked temper underneath his layers of confidence and discipline, but it appeared those layers were no match for the foul mood that had been brewing like a storm since yesterday. Nobody knew how to go about handling the surly man whose fuse had considerably shortened, the scent of his anger flooding the halls, the floors around him turning to eggshells wherever he went as if he were always one wrong move away from shooting the nearest person dead.

There were a couple of important contacts who needed a word with him though, and not even he could make the galaxy come to a screeching halt just because he was grumpy about his crumbling relationship with an omega he _hadn’t even bothered to properly mate_.

(That last part was, admittedly, beside the point, but had lingered with you in the weeks since Kreedis brought it up. Now you’d rather die than let Boba know something so sappy and trivial was eating away at you.)

Even Fennec had been keeping her distance from Boba, occasionally checking in on you to see how you were doing (and not-so-gently encouraging you to make up with him, if not for your sake and his, then for the sake of everyone else). Part of you wanted to think that he’d sent her, and that he wanted to know how you were while respecting your need for space—but the rest of you seriously doubted that Boba’s pride would allow for that kind of vulnerability. It was more likely that Boba was too stubborn to ask, but Fennec knew he wanted to and did it for him anyway.

You had no intention of riling him up or purposefully setting him off. Even if the two of you were fighting, you weren't foolish enough to try testing Boba’s patience. However, you also didn’t want to lay around wallowing in your room all day, so when you found out that the palace would be having company that evening, you absolutely planned to take advantage of that, Boba’s poor attitude be damned.

And by “take advantage of that,” you meant wallow around the bar.

A thrilling change of scenery for your wallowing.

The moment you entered the crowded room that night, Boba’s attention snapped to you from where he sat on the throne. He made no motion to call you over or stop his conversation, but you could feel his eyes boring into you the entire evening. It was frustrating, but also flattering, which was the most difficult part about being angry at him—you still loved him, and you knew he loved you. That wasn’t enough to negate the hurt you’d inflicted on each other, but it kept you in each other’s orbit, regardless of how much you’d pushed each other away.

All of Boba’s guests knew better by now than to chat you up or get cozy with you. Not only because you were Boba’s, but because you’d broken more than your fair share of bottles over the heads of unruly alphas that thought they could push their luck. Thus you sat at the end of the bar, giving everyone else a wide berth to maneuver around you without fear.

You’d started on your third glass of something fruity mixed with a shot of Corellian vodka when someone bravely took a seat next to you. You turned, fully prepared to have to pry Boba off in case his jealous temper struck, but you stopped upon recognizing the newcomer. “Oh!”

The Mon Calamari that had saved you nearly a year ago smiled, flagging the bartender down for his own glass of ‘whatever my friend here is having.’ You two easily slipped into casual conversation, and he seemed genuinely happy to run into you. “I’m glad to see you’re well! I figured Fett would take good care of you.”

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted out, surprising him. “I should have said something to Boba about how you helped me—“

“Don’t worry about it. You had...more important things on your mind. Besides, Fennec questioned all of us afterward and I told her what happened, so Fett ended up compensating me anyway.” He gestured to his clothes, which were considerably nicer than what you’d last seen him in. “Gave me a good recommendation and got me onto a better crew.”

When his drink arrived, he proposed a toast to Boba, and with a little laugh (mostly at the sheer irony), you agreed, clinking your glass against his and downing the rest in one go.

At your fourth drink of the evening, you managed to admit you couldn’t remember the Mon Calamari’s name, which he was thankfully very understanding about. Marin, as he was apparently called, stayed with you through the evening, the two of you catching up on your lives since the last time you’d seen each other. Not that you two knew anything of each other prior to your last meeting, but he proved to be an interesting companion—or, at the very least, a good drinking buddy. You didn’t know much about Mon Calamari culture, nor the intricacies of the elite crews under Boba’s command, but Marin was more than willing to talk about it all, and his tipsy explanations were more entertaining than you could’ve asked for.

At your fifth drink, Marin made a lighthearted attempt to cut you off, to which you ordered a sixth drink out of spite and demanded he tell you the gossip about crews he didn’t like, which Marin was more than eager to do.

By the arrival of the sixth drink, he was telling you about one of his new crewmates that apparently remembered you jettisoning one of their previous buddies in their early days. “Which they said was all well and good, since there were less people to split the pay between. Some of them started taking bets on who you’d toss next, and they’d celebrate whenever you off’d someone they didn’t like.” You nearly spat out your drink when you laughed at that, the sound of the cheery guffaw carrying over the loud chatter around you.

When the seventh drink was put on the counter, you picked it up only for it to be plucked out of your hand from behind you. “Hey!” You nearly fell off the stool from how quickly you turned, but you paused when you discovered that it was Boba holding the drink. Everyone in the immediate vicinity lowered their voices, trying to listen in without outright gawking.

“You’ve had enough.” Boba used his authoritative _alpha_ voice, and you immediately blushed with shame and indignity.

He was wearing his armor so you couldn't even see his face while he stared down at you, cool, indifferent, and leaving you absolutely humiliated. Like you, a _poor little omega_ , couldn’t be trusted to make good decisions, so you needed your _alpha_ to come keep you in check. Was this stroking his ego? Grabbing you by the metaphorical scruff of your neck in front of everyone so they could see how _helpless_ you were without him?

Maybe it was the excessive amount of alcohol in your system, but the anger in you that had previously cooled suddenly flared back to life all at once, swelling into a raging inferno that threatened to swallow you whole.

You wanted to cause a scene.

Boba was on thin _fucking_ ice and you were so _very_ tempted to break it with a hammer, to make sure both of you went down when it finally gave way to the pressure. If he wanted to act like an asshole in front of everyone, you were more than willing to throw down the glove and make your quarreling public. Let everyone in the whole fucking _palace_ know that even the legendary Boba Fett couldn’t control you.

Then you thought about your dignity.

It hurt to have _your_ _alpha_ act so condescending, in a public sphere no less, but the damage to your reputation if you threw a _tantrum_ would be far more severe. What respect you’d managed to earn and maintain within Boba’s empire would vanish, and you’d be seen by everyone as nothing more than his sugar baby omega. As much as you wanted to make Boba look bad in that immediate moment, you would rather go back to being the reserved little nobody that did their job and kept their head down than be treated forever as an omega that can’t be trusted to make their own decisions.

For a long moment, you simply stared at Boba, wishing desperately that he and his stupid armor would melt into a puddle and dry up under Tatooine’s suns. Finally, after weighing the pros and cons, and some incredibly tense silence consuming everyone nearby, you nodded once.

“Alright,” you said, your voice unintentionally smaller than you’d ever heard it. You averted your eyes, not looking at him. “Whatever you say, Boba.”

You spun back to the counter, not bothering to address Boba again. From the corner of your eye, you saw him tense, so slight that it was almost imperceptible, but you asked the bartender for a water and moved on. He lingered at your back longer than you expected before finally walking back to his throne.

You didn’t watch him go, but Marin did, and based on the way Marin was practically wincing while watching Boba move through the crowd, you suspected Boba’s mood had worsened further. “I shouldn’t ask, but…”

“It’s complicated,” you said with a sigh, waving it off. “Don’t worry about it.”

The two of you spoke for a little while longer before Marin’s crew decided to split for the evening. You gave Marin a shoulder hug and promised you’d have a drink with him the next time his crew came by, and after he left, you figured it was time to retire for the evening. Moping alone at the bar while drinking _water_ was rock bottom, and if you were going to be miserable, you could at least do it from the comfort of your bed.

You didn’t look Boba’s way when you left, even though you felt his stare.

It was late when Boba messaged you via holopad. You’d started to drift off when a notification sounded, and you groaned to yourself, debating whether or not to look at it. You _knew_ it was him, no one else would bother at this time of night, and you were anxious that you might miss something important if you ignored it. However, you also weren’t thrilled by the idea of interacting with him, especially as tired as you were. Rolling over, you stretched out your arm, weakly batting at the holopad where it sat on your nightstand, not wanting to emerge from your blanket cocoon.

 ** _>_** **_Come to my room. I want to talk._**

You frowned, pulling the holopad under the blanket and curling up in the cozy darkness with it before responding.

 **<** _Is there a reason this convo has to happen right this second or can we have it during the day like normal people_

 ** _>_** **_I miss you._**

That got you to pause.

Boba was rarely straightforward with his feelings, generally choosing to convey them through actions rather than words. It had taken you some time to realize he was trying to court you because he'd never said anything to make you think he was—he had done many kind and thoughtful things for you, but you'd always assumed you misread his actions due to your own pining for him.

As much as you didn't want to get out of bed to deal with this incredibly emotionally complicated situation, Boba's earnest admission soothed over a lot of the immediate hurt you'd been feeling, and you couldn't find it in you to make him suffer any longer than necessary after he just showed you a vulnerable side of himself.

 **_<_ ** _Okay but I’m going to drool all over your pillows so that’s on you_

 ** _>_** **_You usually do that anyway._**

The palace was more beautiful at night, or perhaps simply easier to admire without the heat of the suns. You padded through the halls in your pajamas, soft slippers on your feet and a blanket draped around your shoulders. Boba had plenty of blankets in his room, but this one was necessary for the journey, wrapped around you like a billowing cloak as you roamed across the palace. For a second, you thought you saw Fennec watching over you from one of the hallways, but that was hardly unusual. How that woman managed to be everywhere at once, you’d never know.

When you arrived, the door opened before you could even knock, Boba standing right there on the other side. He’d stripped down to his black robes, but his expression was...stoic. Unreadable, even for you, and at this point you knew him better than anyone else. It was his scent that gave him away, thick and concentrated in his room, and without other people around and or his armor to muddle it, you could discern it with absolute clarity.

_Grief. Regret. Yearning._

Boba stepped aside to let you in, and to your surprise, he didn’t jump you the moment the door closed, even though you knew how badly he wanted to. He kept his voice carefully even, though it seemed a little more gruff than usual. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, despite the _long_ and _arduous_ journey fraught with _danger_ ,” you said with a small grin, trying to lighten the mood.

He didn’t laugh, but he did manage a weak smile to humor you. “How noble and brave.”

There was silence after that, both of you knowing that things needed to be said but not knowing where to start. You shuffled closer to him and he wrapped his arms around you out of instinct, pulling you tight against him and pressing a kiss to your hair. You buried your face against his chest in turn, your arms coming up to cling to his back.

The two of you stayed embraced like that for a long time. Boba rubbed soothing circles into your back with firm motions, and as you finally began to relax, the tension slowly bled from his shoulders as well. Eventually, you pulled back just enough to look up at him and take his hands into yours, carefully stepping back toward the bed and Boba obediently following.

He murmured your name with a sort of trepidation, uncertain that this was how the two of you should be going about this. There were so many unaddressed issues sitting on the table, and yet. You met his eyes and hoped he could see the desire for him that ached in your heart, your voice terribly soft in the stillness of the room. “Please, Boba. I want you.”

That was all the convincing he needed.

Boba picked you up, earning a surprised squeak from you before he tossed you onto the bed. He followed close after, quickly climbing over you in a rush to reunite with your lips, and he kissed you like his life depended on it, a starving man with what may be his only meal. When you had to break for air, he moved from your lips to your neck, sucking marks into your skin and leaving a trail down your body, peeling your clothing away piece by piece along the way. He arrived at your waist and had to hold your hips down to keep you from bucking up against him. Normally he’d follow up your desperate squirming with some dirty talk, but when his movements stilled and he said nothing, you sat up a bit using your elbows for support and looked at him. “Boba?”

For a moment he didn’t respond, stuck staring at your body as his brows furrowed in thought. You said his name again and his gaze snapped to your face. That seemed to help him make a decision, as he moved up to kiss your lips again while wrapping your legs around his waist. The kiss he gave you was short and sweet, resting his forehead against yours afterward. “I want to worship you tonight.” Boba’s voice was low and husky, yet surprisingly sincere. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

Being intensely watched by Boba in the throne room earlier tonight had been nerve wracking, and you weren’t eager to relive that anxious dread sitting in the pit of your stomach—but this felt different. Rather than feeling self conscious, you could feel the love and adoration radiating off of Boba, filling your heart with a warmth that only further stoked the flames of desire. “You don’t have to,” you said honestly, “but I certainly wouldn’t be opposed.”

You could immediately see the spark of mischief in Boba’s eyes as soon as you gave him permission, and you wondered briefly if he intended to fuck you until you couldn’t walk to keep you from leaving. Which, while being very petty and inconsiderate, you might not oppose that either. He didn’t move though, a predator lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike. “Remember your safe word, _cyar’ika_?”

“Dejarik.” (One of the games you refused to play with Boba because he always wins.)

“Perfect.” Boba abruptly removed himself from the bed, dragging you by your ankles to the edge along with him. Your upper back stayed on the mattress while Boba held you by the hips, hoisting your thighs over his shoulders as he sank to his knees, and without missing a beat, Boba devoured you.

His head between your legs was always a pleasant sight, and one he gifted you fairly often. As controlling as the man could be, one of your favorite things about Boba was his insistence on working you to your limit, always past more than you initially thought you could take, pleasuring you patiently and methodically through the long hours of the night whenever time permitted. He wasn’t in a hurry tonight, but his touch was heavy and deliberate, less interested in a steady build-up and more concerned with making sure every press of his tongue and stroke of his fingers conveyed how much he needed you, how badly he wanted to make you feel good.

You, however, were feeling far less patient. After your first peak—back arched off the bed and your thighs attempting to crush Boba’s head as you whined his name and his self-satisfied hum while his mouth was still on you made your insides clench again—you tried to wiggle your legs off Boba’s shoulders. He steadied you with one hand, keeping you in place, but he pulled his mouth away and looked up to meet your eyes. “What would you like, little one?”

"Please fuck me," you said, trying to keep your voice steady to hide how desperate you were for him. "I want to feel every inch of you."

Boba’s usually heady ego was surprisingly absent tonight. Rather than taunting you or making you beg for it (things you didn’t mind doing when it was just the two of you behind closed doors), he simply complied, standing and folding himself over you while keeping your legs over his shoulders. Your stomach fluttered when you realized you’d been put in a mating press. Boba still had his robes on, hadn't so much as touched himself the entire time, and with a frown, you reached up and gently tugged at his clothing in protest.

It took some effort, but Boba is a man of many talents, and he successfully managed to undress himself while keeping you folded beneath him. The display of dexterity turned you on more than you’d like to admit, especially once his skin was bared and you could watch the way his muscles flexed and moved. Your hands trailed along his arms and shoulders in reverence, and when you glanced up to meet Boba's eyes, you found him looking at you with such fondness, it made you feel more exposed than being naked underneath him did.

After a quick reconsideration, Boba lowered your legs to the bed and allowed you to rest comfortably on your back. You almost wanted to complain, but then Boba covered your body with his own and kissed you, and you understood. You could feel so much more of each other this way, practically tangled together on top of the silky sheets as Boba worked himself into you, drinking all of the gasps and moans off your lips while he filled you with his thick and heavy cock. He settled into a slow and steady rhythm, the smooth roll of his hips grinding deep into you with every push. It was maddening—he stretched you perfectly, making you keen every time he bottomed out, but the almost leisurely pace he had taken was so different from the wild energy he usually fucked you with, and the pleasure was building much slower than you wanted. “Boba, please—”

“I love you.” You tried to turn to look at him, but he’d buried his face in the crook of your neck, one hand on your hip to rock you against him and the other braced against the sheets. His pace didn’t falter, but when you reached up to cradle his head against you, his entire body shuddered. “Fuck, I—I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. Every time I thought I’d lost you, it was like every star in the sky had gone dark. Like all the light had been torn out of the galaxy. _Maker_ , I didn’t know anybody could love someone so much, but—”

You gently shushed him and pressed a kiss to his head. “It’s okay. You didn’t lose me, I’m right here.”

Boba let out a shaky exhale before pulling away, just enough to sit upright and drag you with him onto his lap, his legs hanging off the mattress and his feet braced against the ground. He continued to steadily thrust up into you, now reaching even deeper, and you closed your eyes, tipping your head back and gasping when Boba pressed a few fleeting kisses along your neck.

“I almost did, though,” he said, softly against your skin. “You were almost taken from me, and then I nearly pushed you away. When you said you didn’t want...I knew I fucked up and that I had to fix it. I couldn't risk you storming out before I had a chance to make things right, so I had them ground your ship until I could at least try. I wasn't going to force you to stay if you really didn’t want to be here. To...be with me."

Tears began welling up in your eyes, and you bit your lip, forcing yourself not to cry. Even if you didn’t agree with his methods, it was so typical of Boba to take matters into his own hands, to need that sense of control in a difficult situation. He was still fucking you on his lap while laying his heart painfully bare because it let him maintain control over your pleasure, even if he knew he couldn’t control your emotions.

Boba turned his attention to the other side of your neck, planting some wet kisses along your jaw before speaking again. “Tonight, I knew you were upset. That I had hurt you, and you were trying to drown out the pain. I couldn't just sit and watch you drink away the sorrow I'd caused, but I figured you wouldn’t listen if I asked you to stop, so I forced you to.” The memory made you tense, and Boba wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest and surrounding you with warmth. “I shouldn’t have done that. Especially not in front of everyone. I thought you’d fight me, but when you didn’t, I realized I’d...forced you to submit to me. That if this went on, if I didn’t stop and you didn’t leave, I would eventually destroy you."

You put your hands on Boba's shoulders, trying to stop him for a moment to gather your emotional bearings. "B-Boba, I…"

His hands moved to settle on your hips, fingers pressing bruises into your skin as he lifted you and _slammed_ you down onto his cock. You squealed and helplessly pushed at any part of him you could reach. Boba repeated the motion again, and again, and again, until you were crying out with every thrust and desperately holding onto him. Boba kissed your cheeks and leaned down, allowing his lips to lightly brush against yours when he spoke. “You are my equal, _cyare_. I’m going to make sure that you and everyone else in the entire fucking _galaxy_ knows that.”

“Boba!” You gasped your pleas between desperate kisses. “I want—oh, please, I—I need—”

“I’ve got you.” With a small groan of strained exertion, Boba lifted you by the ass and stood, bearing all of your weight with his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist and arms around his neck and keened when you felt Boba shift impossibly _deeper_ into your tight heat. He gritted his teeth, struggling to restrain himself from mindlessly fucking into you. “Hold on tight,” he breathed. “I’m going to start making it all up to you.”

“I—I need to know, Boba, please,” you whined, catching Boba off guard. He made an inquisitive hum while planting wet kisses along your collarbone. Your nails were digging into his back from how tightly you held him, closing your eyes and turning your head away. “W-Would you...can we…?”

Boba finally halted his lips and pulled away. When he saw you weren’t looking at him, he eased himself back down onto the bed, running a hand through your hair. “Is this too much? Do you want me to dial it back?”

“N-No, I like this, I-I just…” You couldn’t make the words come out and ended up choking on a sob.

Immediately, Boba pulled out of you, despite your sounds of protest. He continued to stroke your hair and held you close, murmuring soft reassurances to you as your emotional dam broke. Weeks of bottled up insecurities escaped as tears down your cheeks, only worsened by the fact you felt embarrassed for ruining your make-up sex with something so small, so _pointless_ — “What are you thinking about, little one?”

“I-It’s not worth talking about,” you mumbled, trying to hide your little sniffle as you wiped tears away with your palms. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid. I shouldn’t care this much about it.”

A gentle hand under your chin tipped your head back to look up at Boba, his brows creased with concern. “It doesn’t matter if you think you _should_ care. If it’s important enough to cry about, it clearly means something to you.” As you struggled to find the words you needed to explain the tangled mess of emotions in your heart, Boba studied you, moving your hands so he could wipe your tears away with his thumb, pressing kisses to the corners of your eyes after. “I’ve never seen you _afraid_ to tell me something. What is it that scares you?”

The familiar phrasing made the pieces begin to click together. You took his hand in yours, lifting it and resting your forehead against his knuckles once you steadied yourself enough to speak, mirroring Boba the day you woke up. “I...I love you. I’ve spent so long protecting myself by not letting anyone close, but—Boba, I love you, I love you so much it makes my chest ache, and I’m so afraid that loving you is going to make everyone think I’m weak, so I—I try not to want you so much, try to act like I don’t want us to be mates, or look for proof that you don’t care about me when really you’re trying to protect me, and I can’t—I don’t know how to let myself be taken care of, and I want to, but I’m so, _so_ scared of being hurt again—”

You didn’t realize you were running out of breath from trying to get all of your feelings out until Boba said your name and you stopped, nervously glancing up to him. His eyes were wide with shock, his voice wrung thin by disbelief. “You…want to be mates?”

Despite yourself, you breathed out a laugh, smiling even with the fresh tears trailing down your cheeks. “Among other things, yes. I’ve...wanted to for a while, but I was afraid you weren’t interested and that if I brought it up, it’d make me a weak, needy omega—”

“ _Cyare_.” Boba cupped your cheeks with his hands, bringing you close and resting your foreheads together. “Allowing yourself to love and be loved requires more strength than shutting everyone out. Letting yourself be vulnerable is a sign of bravery.” When you sniffled again, Boba gave you a short, sweet peck on the lips. “I didn’t think you’d ever want to, so I never asked, but...if you’re serious, I would become your mate in a heartbeat.”

Your breath hitched and you desperately searched his face for any sign that he might be just pitying you, only to find unbridled love in his eyes. Feeling your lip tremble, you buried your face against Boba’s neck, and he hugged you close in return, encouraging you to scent him. You did so, shyly pressing kisses over his scent gland. When he rumbled with pleasure, you rested against him again, closing your eyes. “Why did you think I wouldn’t want to?”

Boba hummed in thought, one hand holding you close while the other played with a lock of your hair. “I know you don’t like being seen as ‘my omega,’ and being mates would only reaffirm that to people. I want you for the rest of my life, but not if it comes at the cost of your happiness.”

With a smile, you nuzzled against his shoulder, savoring how much he enjoyed your touch. “I don’t mind being _your_ omega, so long as _you_ are _my_ alpha.”

He turned his head and nudged you with his nose, encouraging you to lift your head so he could kiss you. “It would be an honor to be yours.”

You two never got back to sex that night, too caught up in tender kissing and gentle caresses and the exhaustion that only a thorough emotional catharsis can bring.

Boba accidentally woke you when he got out of bed in the early morning. You started to reach for him, but when he noticed, he immediately turned around and wrapped all the blankets over you, trapping you in a comfortable sleep burrito. Helpless to the siren call of your unfinished dreams, you mumbled out half-hearted curses at him as you started to doze again, and you heard Boba’s warm chuckle just before feeling him press a kiss to your head. “I’ll be back, _cyar’ika_. Rest.”

Without having checked the time, it was difficult to know how long you’d slept for when Boba returned, but this time you awoke to the smell of fresh food that made your stomach rumble. Hunger lured you out of the pile of blankets as Boba took a seat next to you on the bed, a tray with an impressive-looking spread of crepes and various accompanying fruits on his lap. You yawned and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes so you could look over the tray properly. “Shit, that looks good. The kitchen staff still trying to butter us up?” Boba raised a brow at you, clearly confused, and you blinked back at him. “There was a really fancy dinner the other night? With the, uh...some kind of bird?”

“Fromirian roasted queg,” Boba said with a pleased grin. “I had them make that just for you. And this,” he gestured to the tray, “I finished cooking for you not long ago.”

Your eyes lit up with delight as you grabbed a fork and started to help yourself. “I didn’t know you can cook,” you managed to say around large mouthfuls of sweet and fluffy goodness, paired with that alien red fruit you like so much. “Maybe you should become a chef if the whole ‘criminal empire’ doesn’t work out.”

“It’s always good to have a back-up plan.” Boba licked his thumb and reached over to wipe some of the fruit’s residue from the corner of your mouth, then licking it off his finger for himself and grinning at the blush that spread across your face and shoulders. “And what about you? Will you be my little sous chef?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going to taste test all of the food.” You speared some of the fruits with your fork and offered it out to Boba, who leaned over to let you feed him. He maintained eye contact with you as he took it into his mouth, letting his lips drag slow and wet away from the fork before chewing. Despite the blood rushing to your cheeks, you frowned at him. “You can’t make me breakfast in bed and then try to seduce me before I even have a chance to finish it, that’s just not fair.”

“Of course, _my_ _apologies_.” It was heavy with sarcasm, but Boba pulled you closer so he could hold you while the two of you ate together, both of you admiring each other with fond eyes and passing sweet endearments back and forth between bites.

When the food had been finished and the tray set aside, Boba kissed you, heavy and demanding and pleading all at once. You were just as eager as you kissed back, arms wrapping around his neck as he moved to lay atop you. By the time Boba’s lips trailed away to begin pressing kisses to your neck, you were breathless, hair mussed and lip swollen from the attention you’d been given. Boba was sucking a particularly large and vicious mark over your jugular vein when you blearily blinked and remembered the existence of the outside world. “B-Boba, don’t we have to...mmm, w-work? Business? Crime?”

He took a moment longer to tease your skin with his teeth before releasing the bruised flesh and chuckling warmly against your neck. “I told Fennec we’re taking the day off. _Business crime_ can wait until tomorrow.” You opened your mouth to say something, possibly questioning his use of vacation time or telling him not to make fun of you because it’s his fault you get so tongue tied to begin with—and then Boba started running his tongue over the marks he’d left littered across your neck, and you were too busy keening and whining to think of anything at all.

Thankfully, Boba was feeling just as impatient as you were, so he didn’t spend much time preparing you before giving you his cock. The extra stretch made you arch your back, throwing your bare neck so tantalizing as you laid beneath him. He didn’t even let you adjust, immediately picking up a rough and desperate pace as he worked you open, burying himself deep into your hot insides with every thrust. You reached up to hold onto his shoulders, but Boba grabbed you by the wrists and forced them against the mattress, holding you down and forcing you to simply take the pleasure he gave you.

“I’m going to mate you, _cyare_.” Your eyes widened, Boba meeting them with his intense gaze as his hips slowed ever so slightly. “Unless you tell me to stop, I’m going to give you my mark, and then I’m going to keep fucking you until you beg me for my knot.”

His words made you involuntarily moan, unable to control the way your hips bucked up against him and heat shot to your core at the mental image he painted. “Please! Want it so bad, Boba, spent so much time thinking about you claiming me, want to be yours!”

Boba’s pace turned devastating, rapidly hammering into you with such force you could distantly hear the headboard being shoved against the wall among the sound of skin meeting skin and your own wordless cries. Boba teased your gland with his mouth, growling foul promises between wet kisses along your neck. “Gonna make sure everyone knows how desperate you are for this cock, how I leave you dripping with my cum every night, how such a fiery smartass like you turns into a begging whore just for me, only for me, they all want you but I’m the only one that gets to make you _scream_ —”

The coil of pleasure in you pulls tighter and tighter until it finally snaps, your insides clinging to Boba as your back arches, and you’re riding that high and moaning his name when he _bites_ your scent gland and breaks the skin and buries his teeth right into the muscle and your body gets seized so violently by pleasure, you black out for a moment.

Boba keeps rocking into you, slow and and deep with his balls pressed up against you, sloppily running his mouth and tongue along his bite mark and angry red skin around it. You didn’t realize you were whimpering until you heard Boba’s praise murmured against you. “So good for me, little one, you’re always so, so good, can’t wait to show off our matching bites, let everyone see how well you take care of me…”

The satisfaction of being mated settled like a haze over your mind, eyes drooping and body pliant, but Boba’s words managed to activate a primal instinct within you, and without thinking, you leaned up and returned the favor, biting into Boba’s gland as hard as you could.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d worry you actually wounded the man, but the keening groan Boba let out was one of pleasure, evidenced by how he pressed himself as much as he could against you and came from your bite, liquid heat shooting into you and filling your depths. You’d caught him off guard, and he was raggedly trying to catch his breath as his knot swelled, pressing at your insides and lodging itself within you.

When you finally let go, pressing a few kisses to the mark in an attempt to soothe, you expected Boba to roll you both onto your sides to cuddle and wait for his knot to release you. Instead, he rolled onto his back with you on top, then bucked up into you, fucking you on his knot.

You gasped in surprise and he laughed, continuing to roll his hips even as you gasped and shook. “I’m not done with you yet, _cyare._ Not by a long shot.”

Aside from taking care of basic bodily needs, Boba was true to his word and kept you busy, making good use of the day off to spend the whole time fucking you senseless. It was like a full tour of the suite, where he fucked you on the bed, bent over the bed, on the ground next to the bed, back pressed against the wall, _front_ pressed against the wall, bent over the bathroom counter, on top of the bathroom counter, in the bathtub, bent over the bathtub, then back on the bed in just about every position you could think of plus a few that Boba got creative with…

By the end of it, you were limp in his arms, practically insensate. Boba gave you another bath, this time refraining from giving you his cock and instead focusing on cleaning you up and whispering soft things to you. Exhaustion had taken over and you were in and out of consciousness, not making out much of what Boba was saying, but you remember at the end of the night being tucked into bed after being freshly washed and the bed having clean sheets.

The moment Boba laid down next to you, he pulled you against him and you eagerly complied, resting your head on his chest and draping your arm across his middle. You were out almost instantly, but could faintly make out Boba murmuring something to himself as he stroked your hair, also dozing off.

“I’m going to make this work. No matter how bad things get, _we’re_ going to make this work.”

"P-P-Please, sir, I beg of you, i-it wasn’t our fault!"

You stepped quietly into the throne room, taking care not to disturb the scene. The Zabrak currently cowering before the dais wasn’t familiar to you, nor were either of his cronies standing nervously behind him. Boba looked almost bored from where he sat on his throne, staring down at the three of them from behind the impassive face of the helmet.

It wasn’t an audience; it was a mission failure.

There were no drinks being poured or games being played, but rather, several different crews of smugglers hoping to get on Boba’s payroll gathered around the edges of the room, all waiting to see what was going to happen next. If Boba decided to terminate the crew that had just failed, the contract would then need to be handed off to another, and everyone here wanted a shot.

Boba once referred to them as starving animals looking for scraps, but you didn’t blame them. From experience, you knew working for Boba was a _very_ good gig.

“I don’t fucking _care_ whose fault it was,” Boba said, his voice a deep growl that carried across the room. “Something goes wrong, it’s your job to _fix_ it.” Fennec stepped forward from his side, operating on some invisible signal only she and Boba knew, and tossed the charred remains of a crate to the feet of the Zabrak. Boba’s voice went up several steps in volume. “ **Does this look** **_fixed_ ** **to you?** ”

The poor captain dropped to his hands and knees, practically curling into a ball as he groveled. “I’m sorry! I-I’m so sorry, sir, please, I-I’ll take responsibility! We’ll bring back double! W-We can compensate for this, just please, one more chance, I s-swear, we won’t disappoint you again!”

“I know.”

Three blaster shots went off in rapid succession, and the three unfortunate smugglers all dropped dead, each shot hitting vitals with devastating accuracy. Boba gave his gun a quick spin before holstering it, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how needlessly _cool_ he looked at all given moments. The sound of your airy laughter immediately drew Boba’s attention, and he used a single finger to beckon you over.

You tried not to look embarrassed when the sea of criminals parted for you as you crossed the room. They were still waiting for the contract, and Boba had just put the entire affair on hold because you did nothing more than enter the room.

There was never a time you felt as powerful as you did now.

Boba descended from his throne to offer you a hand as you approached, lifting you up that last step onto the dais with him. It was hardly necessary, but the symbolic nature of the gesture wasn’t lost on you. He pulled out a data chip and held it up between the two of you, so that you and everyone else could see it. “ _Cyar’ika_. Do you know how to get to Bothawui from here?”

“Of course.” Knowing how to route through hyperlanes without the use of a navcomp was nothing to sneeze at, but this was far from your first run, and Bothawui was a cosmopolitan planet that received a fair amount of traffic. You raised a brow at Boba, playing along with his game. “Surely anyone here could tell you that.”

Boba turned to address the room, still holding up the data chip. “Well?”

Nobody moved. Either everyone was hesitating, or none of them actually knew. You laughed, the sound soft but _there_ and carrying an underlying tone of mockery. Boba’s gaze leisurely drifted over as he admired you, clearly pleased by the way you talked down to the smugglers in an attempt to rile them up. “I didn’t realize nobody knows how to fly outside the Spice Triangle anymore!”

After a few more tense moments of silence, someone finally spoke up—a young woman near the back whose crew looked horrified that she had dared to speak. “T-Tatooine is along the Triellus Trade Route, so you could just...take that to the Manda Merchant Route and then ride that down to Bothawui.”

Boba looked to you, and you nodded once in confirmation. Then he held the data chip up high, the only warning he gave before throwing it to her. She caught it, though all of her crewmates were also ready to try in case she hadn't, and they stared at it in bewilderment for a moment before looking back to Boba, who had his arms crossed and gave them a sharp nod. “The rest of the details are on the chip. You leave tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, sir!” You could tell that the crew was on the verge of cheering and celebrating right then and there, but they just barely managed to restrain themselves.

The other crews all seemed to deflate, and Boba waved them off. “Now, all of you get out. I’m no longer accepting audiences today.” Everyone began to shuffle out, Fennec and some of Boba’s guards overseeing the process, while Boba turned to you and removed his helmet. “Sorry if that made you uncomfortable, _cyar’ika_. I didn’t plan to put you on the spot, but you happened to arrive with perfect timing.”

“I don’t mind. That was...kind of fun, actually. I also liked the ‘tough mob boss executing his lackeys’ shtick you had going on, it was _very_ cool and intimidating.”

“Oh?” Boba’s expression turned smug with a curious smirk on his lips. “Would you like to be involved in more of these?”

“No. ...Well, I—maybe. Depends on what it is, but I know most of these are pretty improvised, so.” After a quick glance around, you saw everyone had cleared out, and you pulled out your holopad. “I actually have my proposal ready, if you have yours.”

Boba nodded and took a seat on the throne, you climbing up and sitting on the arm rest. You felt plenty secure sitting like that, but Boba wrapped an arm around you regardless, making sure to hold you up while also getting to feel you against him. “Go ahead and start, _cyar’ika_.”

“Okay.” Despite having agonized over this and revised it over and over again for the past several days, you still have to take a deep breath and hype yourself up for it before speaking. “I’m willing to cut my average number of runs down to...half. I know you asked for a larger reduction, but in exchange, I’d like to suggest I learn some self defense techniques from you and Fennec, if either of you wouldn’t mind teaching me. It would be less of a risk in general for me to be able to hold my own.”

Boba closed his eyes and frowned, but appeared to be genuinely thinking over what you’d said. After some consideration, he looked up to you, giving your hip a gentle squeeze. “My counter proposal: you can go on as many runs as you want, but only with crews that I’ve personally selected and trust. You’ll have less to choose from in general, and the work won’t be as steady because of their overlapping schedules, but you’ll always be in good hands in case things get rough.”

“Oh! That’s a much better idea than mine, I like that!” He gave you a warm smile, nearly purring with satisfaction at your approval. “Can I still get some combat lessons?”

“I would love nothing more than to teach you how to beat the shit out of your lessers.” You laughed and leaned down to give him a quick kiss, but he held you close to steal a few more, sneaking his tongue into your mouth and stealing your breath away before finally releasing you. Boba grinned as he admired the blush across your face, his hand rubbing your back tenderly. “So, I have another proposal for you.”

“Oh?” You managed not to squeak when Boba slid you down onto his lap, readjusting yourself to straddle him. His hands went to your waist while yours went to his shoulders, leaning in to rest your forehead against his. “And what would that be?”

“We should get married.”

You blinked dumbly as the words sank in. “Bo...we’re literally mated for life. I’m pretty sure that’s already several steps above marriage?”

He hummed in acknowledgment, ducking down to press a kiss to your bond mark. “Yes, but if we get married, then I get to show off my beautiful _riduur_ , and people have to bring us gifts or risk facing my fury.”

“I _am_ a big fan of people cowering in fear of your fury…” You only need a moment to think it over before nodding. “Alright, but only if I get to pick the cake.”

“Deal.” Boba pulled you into another kiss, and you gasped into it when you felt his hips rock up against you, earning his laughter and a devilish grin. “Let’s _celebrate_ the engagement right here.”

After _celebrating_ too hard, Boba had to carry you back to his room, and he couldn't have been more pleased about it.

**Author's Note:**

> HEY THANKS FOR READING I really hope you enjoyed!! I'm thinkin about writing something for our boy Mando just because I really like writing emotionally healthy a/b/o content but who knows idk life is fleeting
> 
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed, feedback is the way I gauge interest in my works to see what people like and want more of :* thanks and have a lovely day!!


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